


Their First Notes

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, BoyxBoy, M/M, Piano, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Harry aspires to learn piano and Louis happens to be a piano prodigy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have personally posted this on several websites, so do not fret unless you see it as by someone other than tommoisperfect or hazlovedboofirst. 
> 
> Also, this is my first fanfic EVER, so I'm pretty excited to see where this goes.

At first, all Harry could see when he entered the music store was a pair of brilliant blue eyes and tousled brown hair. Within a few moments, they grew attached to a gentle face and the rather petite body of a boy who appeared to be in his late teens. Suck it up, Harry, he thought. He’s just a boy. No need to get all nervous. The butterflies in his stomach didn’t seem to listen, as the flurry within his abdomen only grew more intense.

“Er, hi,” Harry finally forced.

“Hi! I’m Louis. What’s your name?” the boy replied without hesitance.

“Loui- no, sorry,” he laughed, and Louis joined him. “I’m Harry.” 

“So, Harry, what are you here for? Are you looking for sheet music? Or perhaps a new instrument? Or–” 

“I’m actually looking for a piano teacher. I’ve wanted to learn how to play for a while, and I saw your shop and thought you might know someone who can teach me.”  
“In that case, you’re looking at just the right guy. I’m actually self-taught, but I consider myself somewhat of a prodigy. I charge less than most of the other teachers around here, since I’m younger. I might even be willing to offer you a discount.” Louis’s eyes twinkled and he smiled brightly at Harry. 

“You don’t have to do that! I’ll pay whatever you charge everyone else.” Harry thought he saw Louis’s smile lessen, but shook the thought. After all, why would he want less pay?

“It’s £15 an hour. You sure?” 

“Money’s not really an issue for me.”

“When do you want to do lessons? I’ve got Wednesday afternoons at 6:00 open, as well as Saturday mornings any time from 9 till 11.” 

“Can I take both of those spots? I really want to devote myself to this.” Louis nodded, and Harry added, “Where should I meet you?” 

Louis ducked behind the counter and ruffled through the stacked papers, soon emerging with a business card. He grabbed the chained pen from the counter and scribbled down an address in the corner of the card. “So, Wednesday it is, then? See you soon, Harry.” 

“Yeah, I guess you will.” Harry smiled at Louis, who returned a grin. Harry turned to leave the store, mind racing. Oh my God. I’ve got to go through that again on every Wednesday and Saturday in my foreseeable future, Harry thought. In truth, he didn’t mind; he’d jump at any chance to see that beautiful boy again. 

~~

In the two days before that Wednesday, Harry had grown incredibly anxious with the worry that he wouldn’t be able to understand anything of piano or that he would just suck. He’d even considered calling Louis at the music store to tell him he decided not to do piano lessons, but couldn’t bring himself to do it because of his desperation to see Louis again. 

Harry glanced in the mirror for the tenth time that day, making sure that not a single lock of hair was out of place. He straightened his jacket, ran his hand over his brown curls once more, and walked out of the spacious bathroom. After traipsing into the kitchen that could only be described as brown, he poured some coffee into a travel mug before departing from the tidy flat. Harry rushed out the door and to his black Jaguar, grabbing his mobile along the way.

There was minimal traffic on the way to Louis’s home; Harry arrived a good ten minutes earlier than expected, so he decided to wait in his car till it was closer to six. He turned down the radio until it was almost silent to make sure Louis couldn’t hear him from inside his house. Finally, he deemed the time reasonable and opened the door to his car. Footstep by careful footstep, Harry traveled the walkway to the darkly tinted wooden front door. The blue eyes Harry had first seen in the music store peered out the blinds to the side of the door, just as eager and full of anticipation as Harry’s green pair. Louis’s eyes disappeared momentarily as he sidestepped to open the door, not even allowing Harry the chance to use the antique iron knocker. 

“For the record, I heard you pull up,” Louis greeted Harry as he shut the door.

Harry let out a sigh, “Really? You could’ve just come out so I didn’t have to sit in my car for ten minutes!”

“But what fun would that be?” Louis poked Harry in the side, inciting a flinch from the curly-haired boy. Clearly, he has no judgment of personal space, noted Harry. Louis gestured for Harry to follow him into his study. Loose sheets of paper and books cluttered small space surrounding a grand piano. “I hope you don’t mind the mess. I don’t normally have visitors.”

“Don’t you teach other people here too?” 

Louis shook his head, pushing his fringe into a further state of disarray, “Nah. I only teach one other person, and I go to school with her. We just use the piano lab there.”

Harry’s lips formed an “O” as he contemplated the fact that he taught a girl at his school. Before Harry could ask about it, Louis added, “She’s not my girlfriend, by the way. I’m happily single. Do you have a girlfriend?” 

The curls framing Harry’s face shook as he chuckled. “Me, have a girlfriend? No, that hasn’t happened in a long time, and it’s something I don’t particularly care to discuss.” 

“So you’re…”

“Gay? Yeah.” Harry anticipated the shocked expression he’d received from each person he’d told. It never came, though, because Louis’s face instead hinted at delight, the corners of his lips turning up and slight creases forming at the corners of his eyes.

“We should probably get started on the lesson, yeah?” Louis slipped between the left half of the piano bench and sat on the left half, patting the empty space next to him. One leg at a time, Harry climbed over the bench before settling next to the other boy. “The first thing you’ll need to know is where middle C is,” Louis gestured to the key. “See how it comes right before the group of two black keys? Every key like that is a C. Go ahead and play a few of them.” Harry tapped the middle C and the piano answered with a whisper. “Press it harder, Harry. You can barely hear it!” Once more, Harry tapped the white key, this time evoking a resonant pitch. He pressed the C’s above and below the middle one, and Louis bobbed his head in affirmation.

“See how there’s six white keys between the C’s? What note do you think each of those would be?” 

“That one’s a C, so the next one’s a D, then an E, F, G, H–”

“Wait right there, Harry. It does go D through G, but after G, it’s an A and then a B. The musical alphabet only has seven letters, one for each of the seven pitches. Did you notice how all of the C’s you played sounded sort of the same? That’s because they’re the same pitch, only an octave lower or higher.”

“So what are the black keys for?” 

“They’re for when you need notes in between the other notes. For example, this is a C sharp.” Louis played the black key to the right of the C. “For now, we won’t be using them, because we’ll stay in the key of C at first. It doesn’t have any in-between notes, so it’s great for beginners. Do you know what a scale is?”

“I’m going to guess you’re not talking about the kind you weigh yourself on.” 

Louis chuckled, “It’s actually just a sequential series of notes.” He continued on, explaining to Harry how to play a scale, how to start reading music, and even showed Harry how to play “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” At first, Harry pecked at the keys timidly, but Louis praised him with each right note and the curly-haired boy was soon playing music for the first time in his life and he cherished every second of it.

Finally, after nailing both songs (or so Louis claimed), Harry said, “If I try to learn any more tonight, it’s just going to go in one ear and out the other. Can we stop for awhile?” 

“Of course! Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No, I was just going to eat when I got back home.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve got plenty of food. Stay here and eat,” Louis said, turning pointedly and walked across the narrow hall to his equally cluttered kitchen.

“If I won’t be imposing, I guess I could stay…”

“Harry! It’s fine, I promise. Now do you want pasta or roast?” 

“You choose.” Louis glared at him. “Fine. Pasta sounds good to me. Do you need me to help cook?”

“No! I can cook pasta myself!” Louis’s tone was reminiscent of a young child who desired to be independent, yet still expected help from his parents.

The pantry door flew open at the hand of Louis, who rummaged through the shelves and finally excavated a box of linguine and a jar of tomato sauce from the mess. He continued to ravage the kitchen, retrieving a few pots and assorted spices. 

Harry picked up one of the spice bottles. “Paprika? Are you really going to put paprika in pasta sauce?” He examined the labels of a few other bottles, “And nutmeg? Really? Are you sure you know how to cook, Louis?”

“I may have been exaggerating when I said I could cook the pasta myself … honestly, I’ve never been very good at cooking. I usually just order out. So yeah, help would actually be greatly appreciated.” 

Harry took charge from that point, directing Louis to dump water or tomato sauce into a pot while he crafted the meal. A dash of oregano here, some basil there; within minutes, the kitchen was filled with the pungent aroma of Italian spices and crushed tomatoes. Harry plated the food, piling linguini and sauce and parmesan cheese high on their two plates, finally garnishing the meal with a sprinkle of cracked pepper. 

“OK, wow. I really wasn’t expecting that much, Harry! This is amazing.”

Harry only smirked at Louis’s statement as he carried the plates to Louis’s interim plastic table. “Bon appétit!” he said, and the two of them gorged. 

Both plates were cleared, so Louis stood to rinse the dishes. Harry glared at him, though, and snatched the dishes from his hands. “Sit. It’s the kitchen staff’s job to wash dishes.”

“But I’m your sous-chef! Let me help!” Louis whined. 

“You’re not a very good one.” Louis raised his eyebrows, forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You have pasta sauce on your nose. That’s not exactly up to code.” Harry moistened his thumb in his mouth and proceeded to wipe the red speck off of Louis’s face. 

“Hey! I don’t think saliva is up to code either!” Louis swatted the hand off his face. 

At that moment, the both of them standing in a small kitchen together, something clicked into place; as Harry’s mother would have said, “The key’s in the lock. All you have to do is open the door.” The boys moved closer, closer, until the space between them was almost nonexistent. Together, they closed the gap, and all they knew was lips on lips, and hands on waists, and they were one, and everything seemed right. 

The door was open, Harry realized. The door was open, and it was now incapable of closure.


	2. Chapter 2

The two boys drew back slowly. Louis’s cheeks were red, and Harry’s hair was a web of flyaways. “What just happened?” Louis asked.

“This,” Harry said, and leaned in for another kiss, but Louis backed away this time.

“I can’t do this. I can’t get involved with a student. I can’t–”

“Why? You just teach piano, it’s not like there’s a school board to worry about, and we’ve only what? Maybe a few years difference? I’m nineteen, and you’re…”

“Twenty-one. I’m sorry Harry, but I can’t do this with you. I understand if you want to find another teacher or something, but I just…can’t, okay?”

“I should get going. See you Saturday,” Harry said, terseness dripping from each word. He grabbed his coat and marched out the door, which slammed against the frame with a thud.  Louis and Harry were both crying, Louis watching through the window of his house as Harry drove away. Their thoughts were both of self-criticism, both believing it was his own fault.

Flickers of words and snippets of alternate endings played through Harry’s mind on the way home. His thoughts were so preoccupied with Louis that he didn’t see the other car coming until it was too late. He saw a flash of cherry red, and then everything went black.

~~

Louis regretted every word of his rejection of the curly-haired boy.   _I can, really_ , he thought, _I’m just not ready. Not so soon,_ and he shuddered, trying to block out his past.

He stood up, unfolding his legs and pushing his hand against the door Harry – _Harry, that’s the last thing he touched here, maybe the last thing he ever will touch here_ – had slammed earlier. His hand went to his pocket and pulled out his iPhone, so he could call Harry, but Louis just slipped it back in when he realized he didn’t have the curly-haired boy’s phone number. A sigh escaped from his lips, still tingling from what Harry did to him. _I don’t even know his last name,_ he thought. _I shouldn’t feel this strongly for him, not now. Not yet._

Louis went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. A day like this meant he wouldn’t sleep, as much as he wanted to, and as long as he was awake, he might as well be as non-groggy as possible so he could be productive. The dishes were still in the sink, unwashed because he had…distracted Harry. _They can wait ‘til morning_ , he decided, and went to his study. For hours on end, he cried over his piano, letting his heart bleed out as he let endless sorrowful melodies course through his fingertips. By the wee hours of morning when the sun had begun to rise, Louis felt that there was not a sad song he hadn’t played.

At this time, Louis decided that he would simply continue life as he had before. Every day, he would go to school, followed by a three-hour shift at the music store. He’d eat meals as usual, and sleep at his usual time. Harry would change nothing. If he continued lessons, then he continued. Louis refused to let Harry and his curly hair make him lose any of the balance he had worked so hard to attain. As for those _feelings_ , well, he’d just have to ignore them. They didn’t exist.

As he decided, so he did. The days until Saturday went slowly, but that was good. It gave Louis time to think. The feelings faded, and Louis thought he was getting better, until Saturday morning.

He wasn’t there.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments much appreciated, though updates are not guaranteed.


End file.
